still.

Why do I miss you the most late at night while I'm listening to sad songs?
Songs are only as sad as the listener.
I still remember your arms. Your eyes. I can hear your voice in my head. It rings and rings and sings.
And I miss it. I miss you. I miss how you picked me up, how you said "I'm thinking of you, and how I've really come to like you". That still echoes through my mind and my heart, repeating repeatedly. It's always on repeat.
And then you got up to leave. And you left and you're not back. I'm not back.
I've told myself that I'm over you, that I don't need you. I've told myself I've moved on. And I am moving on.
It's just slow. It's so, painfully slow.
I think it takes years to finally find peace. To finally not feel anything other than nothing.
Like I did with her, my old best friend. It stopped hurting a while ago, a long while ago. Sometimes I still think about her, but it doesn't hurt anymore. But it took years.
This will too, won't it?
Years, and other people, and new friends, and new lovers.
Because you were the one I could see myself with. I don't know what it was about you, but I loved you.
And as much as I tell myself I'm not in love with you, late at night, when I open up, and stop breathing, I still love you.
When it all comes down to it, I still love you.

(Bambi.)